


Toasted

by robotboy



Series: Butterscotch [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deaf Character, Deaf James Flint, Disabled Character, Established Relationship, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, commitment issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 17:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16288694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotboy/pseuds/robotboy
Summary: It's Halloween and John Silver is toast.





	Toasted

**Author's Note:**

> [I made a moodboard for this one because it's the spooky season and it makes me happy.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/272b21bd5783e7be39e78577f0031dc8/tumblr_pgkb5cAAbg1t0g1j1o1_540.jpg)  
>  A link for [Josh Sundquist's amazing Halloween costumes](https://mymodernmet.com/josh-sundquist-halloween-costume-tigger-2017/), which feature in this fic.

Caramel Jack comes into the shop and orders four (lawsuit-proof) Autumn Spice soy lattes. Mercifully, all of them are Autumn Spice Jack for the rest of the season. July had seen the addition of a mysterious Peppermint Jack to the order, and juggling a fourth syrup had been a nightmare. Hopefully in November they’ll all elect to be Gingerbread Jack and he won’t have to worry again until next year.

‘Plans for Halloween?’ Caramel Jack asks while Silver gets the machine going.

‘Isn’t it a weeknight?’ Silver asks.

‘The Hallo _weekend_ ,’ Caramel Jack says. He has the exact face of the kind of person who says _Halloweekend_.

‘I don’t know,’ Silver says. ‘Horror movies with the boyfriend, maybe.’

And apparently he’s the kind of person who says _the boyfriend_. He loves it.

‘We’re having a party at the warehouse next Saturday night. Idelle and Featherstone are catering. Costumes. Bring the boyfriend,’ Caramel Jack says, helping Silver arrange the lattes into a cup holder.

‘You too, Eleanor,’ Caramel Jack continues. ‘But no boyfriend for you.’

‘Fuck you,’ Eleanor says. ‘He’s away anyway.’

Eleanor’s mysterious fiancé is constantly off being a venture capitalist.

‘So you’re coming?’ Caramel Jack confirms.

‘Of course,’ Eleanor says.

*

Idelle comes in the late morning to drop over fresh sandwiches from the bakery. As Silver is loading them into the displays, Idelle asks:

‘You two going to the party at the warehouse next Saturday?’

‘Apparently,’ Silver says. ‘It’s costumes?’

‘Yep,’ Idelle says. ‘I‘m talking Featherstone into matching ones.’

‘Cute,’ Eleanor smiles.

‘You know the _whole crowd_ is going to be there,’ Idelle tells her meaningfully.

Eleanor has dated at least two of the Jacks—Vanilla Jack, and some time before that a Sugarfree Vanilla Jack that Silver never met in person. In spite of the bad blood, Eleanor has this thing where she’s able to exist in the same time zone as her exes, which Silver has never fully understood.

‘It’s _her_ warehouse,’ Eleanor shrugs. ‘I‘ve been invited.’

‘You sound like a vampire,’ Silver jokes.

‘Good thing that’s my costume, then, isn’t it?’ she snarks back at him.

*

Silver messages Flint after work: _do you have plans for the halloweekend?_

_What did the English language ever do to hurt you?_

_you hate the english language_ , Silver reminds him.

_Not as much as you do, apparently_.

_we’re invited to a party at the warehouse on the corner_ , Silver offers.

_The startup place?_

_yeah, saturday_

_What are they starting up?_

_i don’t actually know_ , Silver confesses. _it’s too late for me to ask now_

_Alright._

Getting Flint to agree to a party is no mean feat. Silver has learned through trial and error that Flint is as particular about his taste in dates as he is in coffee. He avoids restaurants, bars, and parties, not because he’s a misanthrope but because he can’t have a conversation when it’s noisy. Early on, there were a lot of nights in (Flint has taken full advantage of Silver’s ability to phone for takeout), foreign films with subtitles, and galleries: Silver has started to feel rather cultured. He hasn’t particularly missed going out—both of them are early risers anyway—and equally, Flint hasn’t complained that Silver won’t be taking him hiking or trampolining any time soon.

Flint agreeing to come to the party means Silver’s summer of ASL lessons are paying off. He’s good enough at signing now that Flint won’t be bored out of his mind by a room full of Hearing people. There’s also Eleanor, who took the class with him, but she doesn’t get the chance to practice like Silver does. Silver, after all, has his own personal tutor with a very hands-on approach.

Flint hasn’t met the loose-knit community that sprawls through his neighbourhood, on the block between Eleanor’s café, the bakery, and the startup. It’s not that they’re circumspect as a couple—Flint can be alarmingly enthusiastic about public displays of affection—but none of the group know ASL or meet much outside bars. Silver was introduced to the university as Flint’s boyfriend a month after they started dating, when he’d started haunting the library after work. He’d noted the surprise of Hal, head librarian, but couldn’t figure out exactly why. There were any number of things: Silver’s Hearing, he’s a guy, he’s noticeably younger, and he’s got no idea if any of those make him Flint’s usual type. Flint has stayed vague about his exes: there’s _been someone_ in what Silver infers was something casual, and there’d _Been Someone_ much bigger before that. When semester had resumed Billy, the favourite library intern, shook Silver’s hand (it took all day for the blood to return to Silver’s fingers), squinted, and repeated:  _‘Boyfriend?’_

So Silver asked Flint about it, and Flint had told him: _Billy’s an idiot_. On further prompting: _He probably thinks I’m too terrifying to date_.

Which reminds Silver. He hasn’t mentioned it was a costume party.

*

He leaves that for when Flint’s his most amenable. Flint has the disgusting habit of waking up at half past five, even on days off, and going for a run. By the time he gets back, his eyes are bright and he smells fantastic. If it’s a day off, Silver can usually tempt him back into bed for just a little bit more cardio. Afterwards, Silver is gasping for breath, and Flint is wearing nothing but a grin made entirely of dimples. _This isn’t breakfast_ , Flint says before wiping his mouth.

_I know_ , Silver smirks. _You’re making eggs_.

Because Flint does, once he’s done in the shower. He fixes them a hot breakfast while Silver washes. It must be serious, Silver muses to himself, now that Flint’s installed a rail in his shower instead of the plastic chair Silver had brought over when this started. He hopes it’s serious, because he‘s really warmed to a future of homemade poached eggs with matcha salt sprinkled on the top.

Silver comes fumbling downstairs in sweatpants that leave nothing to the imagination, and a shirt that makes Flint snort when he sees it. It’s the Walruses tee they’d bought when Hal had dragged them along to Billy’s varsity football match (prefaced by a very circular discussion about the definition of _football_ ). It was probably intended for cheerleaders half the size of Silver. When he wears it, he can persuade Flint into just about anything.

Silver uses toast to mop up every drop of yolk before clearing the dishes. When he turns and props himself against the counter, Flint stares appreciatively.

_The Halloween party…_ Silver says. _What do you want to wear?_

Flint raises an eyebrow at him. _Costume?_ he mouths, emphasising a sign Silver recognises as _wear_.

Silver nods guilelessly. Flint rolls his eyes.

_No masks?_ Silver checks, spelling the word out.

_No masks_ , Flint replies, showing him the actual word. _What are you thinking about?_

Silver gives him a goofy grin. He’s been waiting for this. He takes out his phone and opens up the browser. He hands it to Flint and Flint swipes through a set of photos of Josh Sundquist—the paralympian Silver’s well-meaning friends send him photos of every year. Watching Flint’s face contort in dread at the sexy lamp, the foosball player, and finally, the pink morph suit that turns Sundquist’s foot into the head of a flamingo, is completely worth it.

_Are you serious_ , Flint glares at him.

_You think I can’t?_ Silver asks, mimicking turning himself upside down on a pair of crutches.

Flint replies with an expressive gesture of Silver falling and injuring himself, and Flint being the one to carry him home.

Which is how Silver gets Flint to spend their Saturday morning at a Halloween shop.

_Do Australians even have Halloween_? Flint asks as they walk.

_Not really,_ Silver says _. Why do you think I moved here?_

_For Halloween?_ Flint smirks.

_It is my right as a bisexual to dress up in costumes whenever I can_ , Silver answers haughtily.

Flint shoves his shoulder into Silver’s, snickering.

_No flamingo_ s, he insists.

_No IHOP?_ Silver asks. He turns to Flint, and pouts, picking up the tails of Flint’s scarf in his hands. It’s not _the_ scarf from their first time, but a warmer one made of soft wool that Flint has been wearing as the fall sets in. Silver has conceded to the weather with an enormous cardigan that covers his exposed waist and the indecent parts of the sweatpants. Flint fiddles with the cable pattern on Silver’s sleeve, and steals a kiss.

_What’s a costume you’ve done before?_ Silver asks.

Flint shrugs, staring into space for a moment. _Rock star?_ he remembers.

_You already dress like a rock star._

_I don’t!_

_How did you dress for that costume, then?_

_Leather jacket_ , Flint gestures. _Boots. Big hair_.

Silver grins.

_Earring,_ Flint flicks his earlobe.

_Is your ear pierced?_ Silver asked.

_I was queer, in England, in the 90s_ , Flint raises an eyebrow. _And people think a Deaf rock star is a good joke._

_Not as good as a one-legged sexy lamp._

_What would you do with the other half a leg?_

Silver pauses. Then says: _Shit_.

Flint laughs, pulling Silver under his arm as they walk. Silver burrows into his side.

Silver would swear the shop pumps cinnamon through the vents. They make their way through shelves that are spilling over with skeletons. On their way to the costume section, Silver picks up a headband with glittery bat wings on the ends of springs. He perches it on Flint’s head. Flint is surprisingly accommodating about it, possibly because it sends Silver into fits of laughter every time he turns around and sees Flint with jiggling bat wings.

Silver keeps pulling less and less likely things off the shelves as suggestions.

He chomps a pair of fangs at Flint. _Vampire?_ he spells out. _What’s the word?_

Flint goes blank. _In BSL it’s ‘vampire’_.

He pokes his neck with two fingers, baring his teeth. Silver repeats it back, barely holding it together as he pulls the face. _We can be vampires?_

Flint gives him a deadpan look and reminds him:  _Lip-reading?_

Silver drops his shoulders in a theatrical sulk.

Flint offers a compromise: _Werewolf?_

Silver musses his own hair up and snarls. _Just don’t shave for a week,_ Flint suggests. _Wear your flannel._

Silver rears his head back and chomps on Flint’s shoulder. Flint tumbles into his arms and they almost knock over a stack of plastic pumpkins grappling with each other.

_Won’t I just look like a hairy guy in a flannel?_ Silver realises.

_True. You already look like a hairy guy in a flannel._

_That's no better than a rock star costume._

They round the corner to the next shelves, carefully avoiding the pumpkins.

There is an endless range of novelty hats. Silver raises his eyebrows at a sombrero.

_I_ _can_ _speak some Spanish._

_You are_ _Australian!_ Flint reminds him.

_I know. It’s not a funny costume anyway._

They get further down the aisle.

_This is better!_ Silver picks up a cowboy hat. He sticks it on his head and Flint looks impressed.

_Sheriff or deputy?_ Silver spells out the words.

_Outlaw_ , Flint answers.

_Do you do cowboys in your research?_ Silver asks, miming sharpshooting.

_No, my work is usually earlier. Cowboys are 1800s._

_So... more like this?_

Silver pulls out an enormous hat from the shelf underneath. Grinning like an idiot, he reaches to pluck the bat wings from Flint’s head and replace them with the hat. Flint is scowling as Silver bursts into laughter.

_It’s perfect!_

_It’s inaccurate,_ Flint replies. _And it looks terrible._

_You’ve got an earring! I have one leg!_ Silver argues.

Flint looks unconvinced, but not outright against it. Silver flutters his eyelashes. He can see the moment Flint’s resolve weakens.

_I’m not wearing_ _this_ _hat_ , Flint bargains.

Silver pumps his fist in victory, and this time he does knock over a stack of pumpkins.

*

The Saturday of the party (the _Halloweekend_ ) starts slow. Well, it starts fast for Flint, what with his morning run, but after that Silver keeps him in bed another hour with a tongue up his ass and a hand on his dick. Flint makes sweet little noises into the pillow and Silver makes filthy ones as he bites the hot flesh of Flint’s thigh. And Silver crawls on him and fucks him so slow they don’t remember drifting back to sleep. Later Flint is up and showered and making eggs, and Silver is up and showered and eating them. Flint brews the coffee (since he’s so damn good at it) and Silver takes him to the market. Flint chooses the produce while Silver does the haggling. They can’t talk much with arms full of paper bags, but they brush shoulders the whole way back. Silver fixes lunch, toasted sandwiches being the pinnacle of his culinary abilities. It’s barely afternoon so they sprawl on the couch, until Flint climbs into his lap and then they might as well fuck again, and then they might as well nap.

Flint is the global reigning champion of napping: it’s not just a Deaf thing, either, because Silver has caught him sleeping while standing up when he can get away with it. But when they both get up so early, they won’t last until the party without a disco nap.

The party’s not going to be a big deal but it’s also kind of a Big Deal. He’s never been good at relationships, so he has no gauge of how it’s all meant to go. Learning a new language and installing bathroom fixtures for each other should probably be more significant milestones. But they were so easy, because Flint had to understand him and Silver had to wash, and it was summer and everything was easy. And then Flint said _boyfriend_ and Silver realised he knew the words _boy_ and _friend_ and realised he knew a whole new fucking language and it had dawned on him that the I-L-Y Flint signed after their first night together meant maybe Silver wasn’t the only one plunging headlong into this.

But it’s not summer anymore and Silver’s never told Flint what happened to his leg and Flint never talks about England and they’ve never gone to a party together and Silver’s kind of scared about it. But Flint is snoring ridiculously loudly into Silver’s shoulder and it’s fucking adorable and Silver pulls one of the throw blankets over them both. Flint looks so good when he wears winter coats and when Silver makes him a coffee Flint sort of hugs his cup to warm his fingers and his lips make a certain shape when he blows the steam off it and Silver is fucking in love with a guy who snores like a fucking chainsaw.

Silver doesn’t say anything about it when Flint wakes up. He just kisses him on the forehead, and they shuffle upstairs to get dressed. Most of the clothes they already owned, and they’d only ended up buying plastic weapons at the Halloween shop. Silver had cut off an old pair of jeans at the knee, and tried to buy a single boot at the thrift store (in the end he had to buy two, which he complained was a waste of a dollar). True to his promise, Flint slides a gaudy earring into his earlobe, and rummages in his bathroom cabinet. Silver, busy trying to fit a very ostentatious thrift-store belt over his cutoffs, doesn’t look up for a moment. When he does, Flint’s moustache is waxed into points and it suits him more than it ought to. He uses his still-waxy fingers to twirl Silver’s too, trying to dodge Silver’s distracting kisses while he does. Silver smudges some cheap eyeliner under his eyes (Eleanor showed him how) and Flint is inordinately impressed. Silver draws a skull and crossbones on Flint’s arm. At this rate, they’re not going to get to the party.

But they do, eventually, looking authentically rumpled and holding hands like a pair of teenagers.

The warehouse is bustling when they enter, and Caramel Jack (styled as Bela Lugosi) waves in greeting from the other side of the room. Silver points him out and explains: _that’s Caramel Jack, and that_ —he spots her with two white streaks pinned to her temples— _is Vanilla Jack._ He sees a tangle of red hair sticking out from a Creature From The Black Lagoon mask and tells Flint: _there’s Hazelnut Jack_.

_They’re all called Jack?_ Flint looks doubtful.

Silver shrugs. _They all answer to Jack. I only know their coffee names._

_If you say so_ , Flint agrees.

_There’s a Peppermint Jack too, but I’ve never seen them. They might be the mummy next to Caramel Jack._

They make their way to Eleanor (she's not a vampire after all, but a cat).

_Hi_ , she signs to them. _How are you?_

Flint smiles, telling her _good_ , _thank you._ He’s signing slower for her, and she’s following along alright. Silver doesn’t always remember Flint can be downright chatty when someone’s speaking his language.

Silver turns at a tap on his shoulder and almost jumps out of his skin. He’s facing a monstrous clown. After a second he realises it’s Idelle, laughing at how badly she’s shocked him.

‘You made it!’ she kisses his cheek. ‘And look at your costume!’

She steps back to take it in. For a second she blinks at his leg. ‘How did you—‘

‘Cut it off for verisimilitude,’ Silver quips.

Idelle’s eyes go huge—which looks terrifying in clown makeup—and then she bursts into embarrassed giggles. Silver stabilises her elbow while she recovers. He grins: he’d had her going for a moment.

Flint’s arm snakes around his waist, and Silver sidles to his side.

_This is Idelle_ , Silver tells Flint, speaking aloud for Idelle’s benefit. _She runs the bakery_.

‘And this is James Flint, or just Flint,’ Silver says to her, still signing so Flint can keep up. ‘My boyfriend.’

Judging by the look on Flint’s face, Silver might be glowing.

‘Just Flint?’ Idelle asks. ‘Looks like _Captain_ Flint tonight.’

Silver translates for Flint and Flint smirks, holding his chin a little higher.

Silver likes that, he thinks. He could really get used to that.

It turns out a skeleton called Charlotte took ASL in college, so Flint leaves Silver at the mercy of the Bride of Frankenstein for half an hour. It turns out Idelle did succeed in her matching costume plan and there is a second clown wearing Featherstone's face somewhere in the building. It turns out Silver can’t sign and hold a drink at the same time so the cider-and-fireball-whiskeys happen to him very quickly. It turns out Deaf people can’t actually dance to vibrations of music (or at least Flint won’t). It turns out Silver shouldn’t try to dance when he has three cider-and-fireball-whiskeys but only one ankle. But there’s pumpkin pie with pastry skulls, and there’s the way Flint can talk to him like they’re the only people in the room, and summer is well and truly over but fall might not be so scary after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Something I realised about myself: I love writing holiday fic! So if you wanna [help me out with American holiday traditions](http://r0b0tb0y.tumblr.com/ask) I'll see how far I can get.


End file.
